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"Like Father, Like Son",
from Tuna
An episode of "Red
Shoe Diaries". Arielle plays the older woman
who once loved the father of the guy now pursuing
her. Arielle, now 44, still looks great, but in
her prime she may have been one of the five most
beautiful women in the world. thumbnails. Arielle Dombasle (1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8,
9,
10, 11, 12)
words and
pictures from Stone Cold
So, the last time I
wrote, Hilary Clinton hired me to be part of her
"campaign". This means I get to hang
out and act non-white, which piss me off because
I can't do no white shit, like eat no mofo'n Pop
Tarts, or steal no Volvos, and them's some a my
favorite things, beating the fuck out of
raindrops on roses, but losing to whiskers on
pussies. But I can do it because the money's
good.
Until the fatal day come
when Hilary call me into her chambers to rehearse
Othello and she gonna play the part of Desdemona.
Well, I don't want to lose the gig, so I figure I
can do it if I don't have to look at her, so I go
behind her and strip her down, and bend her over
the bed. And then I can't do it after all. I look
down at my johnson and her thighs, and in
comparison, my guy look about the size of a
number 2 pencil. And then my man sink faster than
Gary Coleman's career. Aw, shit, I know it just
an illusion, and my man still big as ever, but
the illusion become the reality when it stuck in
yo mofo'n head and won't leave.
Well, I expect Hilary do
some liberal white woman she-it about it could
happen to anybody, but that bitch throw a hiss
like Iceman's mama when we steal her deposit
bottles, and she fire my ass on the spot, and
call in her lackeys to kick my sorry ass out and
find her a real man. Shit, I thought to slap the
bitch some sense, but while my fire is building
up, about five of them Secret Service mofos
appear out of nowhere, and I'm like stuck in the
middle of The Mofo'n Matrix with them guys in
cheap suits and sunglasses ready to aim at me,
and I figure I can't dodge them bullets like
Keanu and Fishburne, so I excuse my sorry ass the
fuck out of there and grab the train uptown, and
as I leave, Hilary throwing ashtrays at me. She
got about 50 of em next to the bed stacked like
pancakes. I shoulda known something was wrong
when a woman who so much anti smokin got
thousands of ashtrays. And they not mofo'n
collectors items from some ancient glassmaker to
the mofo'n Czar. She-it, no. They all got some
half-worn red print on em, and they say shit like
"Donnelly's Bar and Grill and Bar and Did I
Mention Bar Yet" in Sioux City, Iowa, or
"Souvenir of Wall Drugs", or
"Pedro's Forecast: Chili Today, Hot
Tamale".
I got a lot of respect
for the president now. He been eatin her shit for
30 years, and maybe she got him to the top, but
I'll bet he'd a been happier out on the back
porch back in Arkansas, just chewin some terbacky
and havin a dozen daughters and fuckin em all
when they turn 13.
more
Scavullo
Naomi, 1989 Naomi, 1990. Nothin showin. Cindy, 1990 Jerry Hall, 1975. Sweet sugah! Scavullo was in
the zone in 1975, same year as his Russo and
Hemingway. I would sell my mofo'n soul to take
one picture like this in my sorry-ass life. Of
course, maybe I could do better with these sugahs
to snap. Margaux Hemingway, 1975 Alana Collins Stewart, 1971 Christy Turlington, 1990 Diane Von Furstenburg, 1969 Femme
Fatales v8n15
I'm an
issue behind on this mofo, but here's the older
issue, and I'll send 'em as I have 'em J.J. Rodgers Andrea Biro Ava Cadell Amy Miller Kirsten Dunst in "Cheer
Fever". No
skin. Michelle Bauer in "Dinosaur
Island" Celebrity Sleuth v13n4
Shit, Scoop, this was
his 50 Best Natural Tits issue, and I guess
everyone should buy it because I could spend my
life scannin' it and I don't know what you seen
and ain't seen. Anyway, here's some I thought you
and your fellow crackas would like. (Scoop's
note: if you are into celebrity nudity, a
subscription is a must. He always finds some
material never seen on the net, and he generates
some custom material by adding shoots unique to
his mag. You know I've seen a lot of naked
celebs, but I always find some surprises. What
can I say? Ya gotta have it. www.csleuth.com.
Stone Cold sent in a lot, so I'll split them up
over several days.) Lisa Nicole Carson. In the world of big guns, this
girl the Buntline Special. And here's a nipple. Rose McGowan. This is her famous non-dress.
Front view Rose McGowan. This is her famous non-dress.
Front close-up Rose McGowan. This is her famous non-dress.
Rear close-up Linsey Dawn McKenzie. I don't know the girl, but if
Lisa the Pumpernickel of Guns, she the Wonder
Bread Linsey Dawn McKenzie. Linsey Dawn McKenzie. Salma Hayek. Underwater. I don't know what
you can see, but it some sweet shit either way.
"House
on Haunted Hill", from Johnny Web
Movie has a great start.
Tremendous newsreel-style scene in art deco
design, taking place in the 20's or 30's and
parodying 1930's horror movies, with great rusty
grinding gears and electrical wires and torture
gizmos and doctors far loonier than their insane
patients. Then there is a really thrilling
contemporary scene in an amusement park when the
owner shows off his new ride, which he touts as
the greatest ever, and I have to agree. I thought
it was going to be a hectic roller-coaster of a
movie as well, with fast cuts and surprises
popping out of every corner. It degenerated into
a more typical gore-and-noise-fest, which you'll
enjoy as a genre pick, but you guys who don't
like campy horror flicks will probably find it
tedious and predictable. And loud. It is possibly
the loudest movie ever made.
Geoffrey Rush plays the
lead character as if he were doing one of those
high-concept comedy pieces: "but what would
happen if James Woods played the lead in the
Vincent Price biography? I think it would go
something like this ..."
None of
the leads got nekkid, but there was quite a bit
of fast-cut nudity. I captured all the large
images, but there were also plenty of those
scenes of tiny naked souls writhing in hell,
which I ignored. Miscellaneous (1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7)
The Wily
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